


Join In

by keyflight790



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Exhibitionism, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Masturbation, Roommates, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:21:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22086313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keyflight790/pseuds/keyflight790
Summary: Ron wasn't quite sure what his roommates were up to, until he let himself have a peek.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Ron Weasley/Blaise Zabini
Comments: 18
Kudos: 120
Collections: Daily Deviant





	Join In

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FangQueen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FangQueen/gifts).



> Written for FangQueen for the Daily Deviant Kinky Kristmas 2019 prompt: Wanking together in the 8th year dorm. 
> 
> This isn't quite what you asked for friend, but I hope you like it anyway! They got a bit carried away, it's not my fault.

When Ron returned for his Eighth year, he wasn’t sure what to expect. Sure, some of his mates were joining, enough Gryffindors to fill out a pack, but it wouldn’t be the same. For one, the Castle was still very much in shambles; the front hall and two of the corridors were still reduced to rubble, and several markers had been permanently fixed to the walls, signifying those they had lost in the War. Fred’s own was directly across from Potions, and both Ron and Harry had dropped that class as quickly as a Blast-Ended Skrewt.

And that was the other thing, wasn’t it. He was a war hero now, and for the first time he was finally being  _ seen  _ as more than just a Weasley with red hair, freckles and hand-me-down robes. In fact, he’d spotted quite a few first and second-year students with holes in their clothing, their hair magicked copper and a few had even marked their skin with tiny dots. Young witches waved to him in the hallways, and one even slipped a perfumed piece of parchment into his bag, containing a badly written poem comparing his hair to the red of her heart.

Yes, he was famous now, and for the first time he finally understood why Harry had hated the limelight so much. Everyone stared at him as he walked down the hall, and he couldn’t even sit somewhere boring like the library without someone approaching him. They kept asking questions like, was the Basilisk tooth really that big, or did the locket really burn into his chest, and could they please, <i> _ please</i> _ see the scars on his arms from the brains. 

Plus he wasn’t quite sure if anyone really liked him for  <i> _ him _ _ </i> _ _ ,  _ and not because of some war wounds and the miserable time he spent in a tent. 

At least, when he was in his room with the other eighth year boys, he didn’t have to worry about the screaming spotlight that seemed to follow him anywhere. Especially since he was sharing a space with two Slytherins who really couldn’t care less what a Weasley was doing.

In fact, every night when he returned from playing Exploding Snap in the Common Room with Harry, or listening to Neville prattle on about some new plants in the Greenhouse, Ron would begrudgingly return to his quarters and pull the curtains swiftly around his bedroom without so much as a nod hello to his fellow roommates.

Some nights he’d put up some silencing charms and have a peaceful wank, or eat a mince pie that he smuggled into his pocket. Other nights, like tonight, he’d let the curtains hang loose and listen to the calming sounds of the others snoring. He blamed it on growing up in Burrow, not able to fall asleep without the ambient noise of others around him.

He could tell the difference between Malfoy’s heavy breathing and Zabini’s snoring with ease, just as easily as he could tell that Malfoy wasn’t quite asleep, his breaths light and huffy instead of long and even. 

The more Ron listened, his ear as sharp as an Extendable, the more he was convinced that Malfoy was far from sleeping. Now that he focused, he could hear other sounds as well, a squelch, a sigh, the rustling of blankets under a foot. 

What was Malfoy doing? Was he polishing off some pie in his bed as well? Or was it...no, surely the Ferret wasn’t polishing off anything else, not that, not - 

And then Ron heard a moan. Another shift of sheets.

A creak, a thump as a foot hit the hard wooden floor and padded across the expanse of a room. Another creak, more shifting of sheets. Another groan. This time lower. Louder.

“Fuck, Draco.” Zabini’s voice carried through Ron’s curtains as smooth as water, and Ron couldn’t help but gasp. He peeked around his curtain just in time to see one of his roommates crawl into the bed of his other one. Blaise’s arse was tilted upward, his pyjama bottoms tucked neatly under his round, firm cheeks, and Ron could barely make out the shape of Malfoy’s toes against the white bedding. 

They were facing downward, the tips of his toes touching the flat mattress of his bed, and Ron’s mind fizzled with the thoughts of what was happening beneath his sheets. Was he as naked as his bare feet? Was his arse exposed? Was the head of Blaise’s cock pressed against his hole, or fuck, pressed inside?

Were they fucking in his room? Were they fucking in front of him?

His hand wiggled its way under the seam of his pants and gripped onto his interested cock. His first instinct was to blame the fact that anyone fucking, whether bloke or bird, would be equally titillating, but Ron knew deep down that the book he acquired from his brother on how to seduce a witch was rubbish when all he wanted to do was beguile a bloke. He blamed Harry, and their nights in the tent, when all he could focus on was his hands and his throat and his arse in those damnable Muggle jeans and the moans that escaped his cot in the middle of the night when he thought Hermione and Ron were asleep.

Similar moans were escaping the throats of not one but both of his roommates, from the same bed directly across from Ron’s own. As Ron gripped his own cock, sliding his hand up and down his length, he stared at the two moving bodies in front of him.

He wondered if it would feel the same, if plunging into Draco would feel the same as his fist around his own length, or would it be tighter, smoother. Would he gasp, or moan or whine the same way he did when he twisted his palm across the tip. Would Draco cry, or beg so sweetly when Ron drove into him the same way Blaise was fucking him, hard and fast and wanton. 

Squinting even more into the darkened room, Ron grasped at his length, imagining Draco’s hand around his cock, or his mouth, his tongue lapping, his lips stretched around his cock. Or Blaise, behind him, leaning into him, pressing into him, pounding into him 

He pulled and twisted as Blaise’s body bobbed up and down, his shadow casting against the wall in a gorgeous arch of light. Ron imagined that body stretched across his spine, melting into him, filling him up until Blaise’s come spilled out of the edges of his well-fucked rim. 

He tugged as Draco’s moans filled the space, as his gasps filled Ron’s ears, and Ron yearned to know what those moans would sound like if they were muffled by his cock, or if he was screaming his name as Ron fucked him deep.

He crested, spilling all over his own freckled hand as Draco called out Blaise’s name as he came, as he watched Blaise’s body shiver and tremble in release.

Ron wiped his own pleasure haphazardly on the curtains surrounding his bed before tucking back beneath his own sheets, his heart racing as he heard the bed creak. He heard the padding of feet, the sound growing louder as they approached his own mattress.

He saw the curtains pull to the right, letting in the moonlight and the glow outlining Zabini’s chiseled body. 

“It takes more than one cock to keep this annoying bastard satisfied, Weasley. Next time, join in, won’t you?” 


End file.
